


pieces, letters, paper cuts

by lunanicks



Category: The X-Files, The X-Files: I Want To Believe (2008)
Genre: Angst, F/M, lot of angst, post-IWTB, pre-Revival, scully leaving
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-05-13 19:25:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14754830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunanicks/pseuds/lunanicks
Summary: post iwtb: scully is leaving and finds a letter from mulder.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hey ~ this is the first fic i've written in a while so please be kind :)

It's not supposed to hurt like this.

It's not supposed to hurt like this.

 

But fuck, it does hurt.

 

She ignores all thoughts of pain and instead thinks

It's the right thing to do, it's the right thing to do, it's the right thi-

 

As if that justifies the pleading words spilling from his lips, as if that justifies the tears spilling from his eyes

As if the thought that this is the right thing offers any kind of comfort to each piece her heart is breaking into.

 

She picks up a piece of paper from the floor because she cannot pick up the pieces of her heart or the pieces of his but goddammit, she has to pick something up. She settles on some scattered pieces of paper, the content unknown and she was just intending to put them on the table among another pile of also unknown papers when she sees her name at the top of the page.

He is looking down at the ground, already half turned away from her; he cannot bear to watch her leave.

She reads the words on the piece of paper:

 

_Dana,_

_I’m sorry._

_There’s not much else to say, really, but there’s a million things to apologize for. I’m sorry that I’ve caused you so much pain throughout the years. I am beginning to think maybe it would have been better if you’d never walked into that basement office. I think about all the times you almost left but somehow, I always convinced you to stay. But then, I don’t think that it was actually me who convinced you of anything. You have always been so strong-willed, I don’t think I could convince you to stay if you actually were going to leave. And now, it seems that you are, actually, going to leave. I’m sorry that I have driven you so far away from me. I’m sorry that I've dragged you so far down the rabbit hole with me that now the only way you feel you can escape is to leave._

_our home._

_Scully, I love you. We never did say those words very much, always hidden between the lines of other confessions. But I have nothing left to lose, now that I am losing you. I have nowhere left to hide, so Scully, I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you. I would say it a thousand times if it’d make you stay. I love you so fucking much._

 

She stops reading there. Her tears are falling more steadily than before, a continous river, flowing from her eyes, smearing the words on the page.Tthey were already smeared to begin with, from his own tears, she suspects. She feels she has somehow invaded his privacy, even though the letter was addressed to her, even though they live together. If he’d wanted her to read it, he would have given it to her.

 

He seems to notice that she is still present, although silent, because he turns around, sees her standing still, almost shell-shocked, looking at a piece of paper he instantly recognizes.

“Scully..” he starts, “I…-“

“Mulder, don’t,” she interrupts. She walks towards him, “There’s nothing to apologize for. You’ve hurt me, yes, caused me pain, but I have caused you pain, too. Maybe, somehow, it evens out. “

She reaches her hand out, wipes a tear away from his cheek. Her hand rests against his face. Something tangible. Something to hold on to, right before she leaves. Before everything she could hold onto, crumbles to dust. Him, their home, them, together. For almost twenty years, she hasn’t been without him. Even when she thought he was dead, she carried his child within her, their DNA weaved together into an embroidery, a piece of fabric big enough for them both, and their son, to crawl under, to escape under. Even when he had to go, to protect them all, she had his child with her, his son, his son.

 

He would have been a great father. Maybe their son could have kept him from sinking so deep. Maybe…

Maybe’s, what if’s always hurt.

"Mulder, I have to go, still.”

The letter, still tightly held in the hand that wasn’t caressing his cheek, pressed into her palm and she was certain she would get whatever the extreme version of a paper cut was. She folded the letter in half, dropping her hand from his face and pressing the paper into his own hand. A final parting gift, from him to her to him.

"I want to stay, but, for the both of us, I have to leave. “

She hopes he understands. She couldn’t have written a letter like that to him, with a deeper explanation so she hopes he understands from her eyes and her trembling bottom lip, why she is leaving. She wants to kiss him goodbye, feel his lips against hers one last time. She wants to fuck him goodbye.

She does neither. Even a kiss, she knows, would crumble her resolve so utterly and completely that she would never leave his side again if she kissed him now. Instead, she takes his hand and squeezes it, just once.

The touch is over before it even began.

 

The door closes behind her, the soft click echoing inside her head.

"I love you, too,” she whispers, hoping he hears her through the hardwood door.

Hoping he hears her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i thought this was gonna be a one-shot but i had the idea to continue it so we'll see where this goes

She’s lonely. The rental apartment she’s staying in is boring, white walls, only the most essential furniture, no art, no trinkets, no nothing. She sleeps, works, eats, repeat.  
And she’s lonely. 

She hasn’t heard from him in 3 months. 87 days. She kept count, wondering when one of them would give in and call. She wants to call him. Wants to hear his voice, wants to apologize for leaving, wants to come back to his messy house, with papers and books and piles of accumulated stuff everywhere. Their house.  
She ignores the urge to call him and takes a shower, the water scalding hot in an attempt to burn and wash off her thoughts. After the shower, she pours herself a drink. 

On Sunday, she goes to church. She sings the hymns, prays, does communion, eats the little cracker, drinks the wine, does the sign of the cross in the name of the father, the son and the holy spirit. She slips out quietly after the service without talking to the priest. She goes home, takes off her church dress and goes back to bed. She sleeps for another five hours.

She wakes up and she misses him. 

On Monday, she goes to work at the hospital and stays until 10pm. When she gets home, she keeps working, looking over the files, thinking about her patients, doing paperwork, figuring out treatments. That night, she doesn’t sleep. In the morning, she drinks three cups of coffee and goes to work again. She falls asleep during lunch and her boss sends her home for the rest of the day. 

She still wants to call him.  
But she can’t, because she left and he is supposed to figure his shit out and she is supposed to stop being so dependent on him, but goddammit, she misses him. But he wouldn’t get help and he kept getting too immersed in his theories and he wouldn’t sleep or eat or talk to her for days and she wants him to understand that that wasn’t a life she could live.  
It wasn’t good for her. She tells herself this over and over again, tries to convince herself that it’s true. But they have been through so much together and he has always been there for her and sometimes, she wants to scream and cry because she abandoned him when he needed help. She tried to help him, for fucks sake. She did everything she could.  
Her thoughts become too loud for her, her head is swimming, she wants to call him and scream at him, she wants to drive to his house and hold him tight and never let go, she doesn’t know what she wants.  
She pours herself a drink and goes to bed. 

When she wakes up, she calls her old therapist. A part of her says, at least she’s self-aware enough to know she needs help. Unlike Mulder.  
She pushes the thought away, sets up an appointment for Thursday afternoon. She pours all her alcohol down the sink and cooks a pasta dish for one. She eats silently and goes to bed. 

In the morning, she checks her voicemail and feels her heart jump out of her chest when Mulder’s voice plays through her phone speaker, 

“Scully… hey, i’m sorry for calling like this. umm… i just wanted to say that, uhh, i, i real-”

She pauses the voicemail, tries to calm her breathing down, realizes she’s crying because she hasn’t heard his voice in so long and she’s been so lonely and all her guilt for leaving floods right back, overwhelms her, a tsunami swallowing her up.  
She doesn’t finish listening to the voicemail.  
but she cries. she cries and she cries until she thinks she’s brought the entire ocean to her kitchen floor and she is drowning, gasping for breath but there is nothing to hold on to, no stray piece of wood floating around to support her, just her, alone with the merciless ocean. her, alone, crashing waves. she wonders when, or if, a boat will pass by, notice her, lying amongst the seaweed. 

the boat turns out to be her work. they call her in the morning, asks her when she thinks she’ll be in and she thinks she stops crying for long enough to request a couple of days off. 

she doesn’t know how many hours she spent lying on the kitchen floor but by Thursday midday, she is up, she’s showered and she’s made a mental list of the things she will calmly discuss with her therapist.  
she’s dana scully, for god’s sake, she’s been chased all over the world by monsters, this will not be what gets her down. 

 

Dr. Mesner and her exchange brief small talk and then, the therapist asks dana why she called now, why did she set up an appointment after almost 10 years of absence. 

She thinks of the first item on her mental list, but when she opens her mouth, without thinking, she starts talking about all that she’s lost while being on the x files. melissa, emily, william, her chance to have children, her relationship with her family, family dinners, family christmas, how she had cancer, how she lost any semblance of a social life, how all friends and family just seemed to fade away until it was just her and Mulder, hand in hand, against the world.  
Her therapist asks her if she blames mulder for what she’s lost and she rushes to defend him, no she doesn’t blame him, she’s always known the risk and she chose to keep going, keep working, how she liked being by his side, hand in hand. and how she liked being by his side when they weren’t fighting the world, how they first fucked in a hotel room, how she first knew that she loved him, how he told her he loved her, about all the times they’ve held each other, all the times he’s taken care of her after a nightmare or comforted her while crying, how she’s always tended to his wounds and come to save him. She talks about how she could make his paranoia go away for just a moment, cradle his face in her hands, his heart in her hands, his life in her hands, how all the men out to get them seemed to disappear into the background when they looked into each other’s eyes. She talks about all the times they’ve saved each others lives, how they would go to the end of the world for each other, and already have, how she followed him on the run and always stood by him because she loved him, always has, she thinks, and always will. 

When she is done talking, the therapist hands her a tissue. She doesn’t even realize that she is crying but she wipes her tears away, apologizes for crying.  
“You don’t have to apologize,” Dr. Mesner, says, “You mentioned that you recently left him - why?”  
“It was the right thing to do,” she answers, maybe too quickly, a rush of guilt washing over her, “For both of us.”  
“Have you been feeling guilty for doing it?”  
She hesitates, takes a deep breath, but then says, “Yes, of course. He needed me but I, I needed to leave.”  
Dr. Mesner writes something down on her notepad, “Listen, our time is up but I think that you should call him. You can be his friend and care for him without being too dependent. I think it would do you good to check up on him.”  
“okay, yeah, I can do that.”  
“Okay, good. Do you want me to set an appointment for next week?”  
“Yes, thank you,” she puts her coat back on, almost rushing out of the office. She can’t wait to go home and call him.  
“Goodbye, Dana, you’ve really made some good progress today.”  
She says a hurried thanks, bye, before leaving the office and driving home.


End file.
